CADEN

Dr. Rivera closes her locker. “Hey Cocker, some of us are grabbing beers over at Sweetwater.”

I blink at the name since one of our craft breweries in Atlanta shares the same. “Yeah?”

“You should come. You’re off shift tomorrow, right?”

“I am.” Blinking to my bag, I sling it over my shoulder. “Sure, yeah. I’m in.”

Happy I accepted, her eyes brighten.

Pinkett and Bowers exchange a look.

I guess they’ve been wondering if I’d ever come out with them.

Bowers says, “All work and no play,” as he zips up his jacket.

Locking eyes with me as he pulls on a fresh shirt, Pinkett agrees, “You’ve been acting like you’ve got something to prove.”

“I do.”

They drop it, returning to their easy conversation. The four of us walk out together and find two nurses waiting by the front door—and by their expectant faces and cute outfits, they’re coming with.

Even prettier in civilian clothes, Arya smiles upon realizing I’m with the group, but she plays it cool.

I’m no dummy.

I know she’s interested.

Her vibe has been unmistakable.

When I went home for the holidays, she was disappointed. When I stayed for New Years Eve and tried to lose myself in the work of the busiest time of the year, her shift magically got changed to that night and she was handing me tools.

As we all walk toward Michigan Avenue, she and her friend Cindy talk, but it’s distracted. They’re thinking about me. I keep my gaze ahead as I discuss the shift with the other doctors.

Rivera, Pinkett and Bowers had a boat accident today while I assisted a coronary artery bypass grafting.

These first three months have been invigorating where work is concerned. I’m learning a lot and there’s no Janet here to stress me the fuck out. It’s been a relief, except for one thing.

Elizabeth.

I’m working under another female attending here. I keep comparing her to Myers.

When I’m walking home, I read the texts she sent me, deleting replies time and again. When I’m trying to sleep, I can’t for long. Not until exhaustion forces me to.

I planned to impress Oberhan but I’ve begun to realize that it’s not his opinion I care about.

“When are people going to realize you can’t climb into a boat, feet flailing that close to the motor?” Pinkett asks.

Rivera rolls her eyes and takes his hand, surprising me. “Sometimes I wish we could post cautionary tales on social media rather than just stuff that pumps up our hospital.”

“You guys are dating?” I motion to their hands.

“Uh huh,” Pinkett chuckles, teasing me, “If you’d have come out with us earlier, you’d have known that.”

I point back to the hospital. “They don’t mind?”

“No.” He glances to Rivera. “We don’t bring problems to work, so what’s the problem, right?”

She accepts a kiss he leans to give as they walk.

“God, that’d be nice,” I mutter.

Cindy pries, “What would be, Caden?” her glance to Arya not sly in the least.

I’m too interested in the subject to not answer, “Finding someone at work. With the hours we do, it’d be great if you didn’t have to be away from them all the time. Probably could have a happier relationship. What, Bowers?”

He laughs, caught in the act of showing shock. “I hate to say it, but that coming from you.” He shrugs. “Didn’t expect it.”

“You look like a player, is what he’s saying,” Rivera teases me, eyes shining.

While holding the strap of my bag I look around the shops. “I come from a family that works at having happy marriages. Guess I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Arya offers, “Everyone wants to find somebody. To act like they don’t is just…an act.”

Nods of agreement as we walk up to Sweetwater Tavern, its patio sprinkled with brown umbrellas.

Inside is a large space, three-quarters of it a dining room of red-stained wooden tables and brown leather booths and chairs around square columns of stones where on each side hangs a television screen. Pick the type of sports you want to watch because they’re showing them all.

The place is jumping tonight as we sidle up to a long bar that matches the decor, three bartenders in black t-shirts with ‘Sweetwater’ in white ink across their chests.

“What’re you having?” Bowers asks the group.

As they discuss it, I see Gwendolyn Partridge walk in, talking to someone. A man appears and she reaches for his hand. Must be her husband.

“Caden, what beer do you want?”

“Huh?” Looking at Bowers I give a distracted, “Pilsner. Order me the best one. Still learning what you have here.”

“Oh, I know what you need!” He turns around, but I don’t hear his order because I’ve glanced back to Dr. Partridge and my chest implodes at the sight of who just walked in behind the couple.

Elizabeth Myers.